isle looked out over the sunny sea, and wondered if her mother were
never going to take her nap. She was twenty-three years old, and, Hun or
no Hun, was certainly not displeasing to the fleshly eye. Also, she much
desired to pass the time with a little sail, having already privately
engaged a catboat for that express purpose. There was no reason whatever
why she shouldn't have the sail, except that her mother was opposed on
principle to anything that looked the least bit adventurous.

"There are cinders on me yet, in spite of my bath," added Mrs. Heth,
whisking through the less interesting pieces in the "Post."... "Willie's
train arrives at four-thirty, I believe?"

Miss Heth confirmed the belief.

"I wonder, really," mused the dowager, not for the first time, "what
attraction the place can offer Mr. Canning. Men are strange in their
choice of amusement, to say the least."

"He's tired of the hermit life, and wants to let down his bars and have
a little fun."

"He could have all the fun he wants in town, Cally. He has only to make
a sign--"

"Of course!--and be snowed under with invitations which would be odious
to him, and probably roped in for something by Helen and Sue Louise
Cheriton, say. He can have fun here, without its leading to anything."

She added, with perverse merriment: "At least he thinks he can, not
knowing that two enterprising strangers are camping right across his
little trail."

Mrs. Heth frowned slightly. She was a slim, rather small lady, and her
fair face, at first sight, suggested an agreeable delicacy. To herself
she acknowledged with pleasure that she was "spirituelle." To the
observer, after a glance at her attractive upper face, the thick jaw and
neck came as a surprise: so did the hands and feet. The feet, seen
casually in a company, were apt to be taken for the belongings of some
far stouter woman, sitting near. They were Mrs. Heth's, however; and she
had also a small round birthmark on her left temple, which a deft
arrangement of the hair almost concealed, and a small dark mustache,
which was not so fortunately placed. She was sane and sound as to
judgment, and her will had raised the House of Heth as by a
steam derrick.

Miss Heth, gazing down at three or four hardy bathers, who splashed and
shouted at the hotel float, said, laughing:

"Truly, mamma, what do you suppose the Cheritons would have given Willie
for the splendid tip?"

Mrs. Heth's frown at her newspaper deepened